Pasta Before Wurst
by lunar mischief
Summary: A German's work is never done. A series of oneshots. Accepting requests.
1. Chapter 1

**This was supposed to be a Spamano, but I didn't really like the way it came out, so I tried again, and I got a GerIta. Go figure.**

**Many thanks to the wonderful Moonclaimed, who edited this at 3 in the morning. Love ya!**

**I own nothing.**

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><p>A small dark spot danced on the wall, catching Feliciano's eye.<p>

_Ve? What's that?_ he asked himself as he inched closer. His eyes widened in surprise and he jumped back into the table.

"Ludwig! Ludwig!" he cried frantically. Rapid thumps were heard on the stairs and a disheveled German appeared.

"Feliciano! What's wrong, are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

Feliciano latched on to him, sobbing into the larger man's chest.

"Oh, Ludwig, you have to save me! -"

"FELI!" The Italian looked up, tears in his eyes. Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved Feli to death, he really did, but sometimes he really just wanted to punch him in the face. Any number of things could have him this upset. A phone call from Russia, an insult from Romano, running out of pasta… Ludwig took a deep breath.

"Feli…I need you to calm down and tell me what's wrong."

Feliciano pointed a shaky finger at the wall.

"It's going to eat all of my pasta and then it's going to eat me! Please help me, Ludwig!" he wailed.

Ludwig followed his lover's finger and froze. What was the Italian even talking about?

"Feli, there's nothing there. Did you hit your head again?"

"V-Ve? But it's right there. How can you not see it? It's huge and it's going to eat my pasta!"

Ludwig glanced worriedly at the sobbing mess in front of him, but said mess seemed so insistent that he looked back at the wall. There was nothing there, aside from the clock that always hung there. But Feli was still pointing and insisting something was there, so he squinted his eyes and looked again. A speck on the wall caught his attention. He stood up, ignoring Feliciano's protests, and approached the blemish. He mentally face palmed as he figured out what it was. His Italian's logic was flawed.

"Feli…" he sighed, "it's just a spider. They don't eat humans, or pasta. You're perfectly fine." He went back to the auburn-head's side. Feliciano's hands latched onto Ludwig's arms.

"Ve? No, Ludwig, you have to do something! What happens if it goes after you after it eats me?"

Ludwig stared blankly. Had the Italian not heard a single word he just said? Ludwig sighed, standing back up, and grabbed a paper towel. He pushed it against the wall, killing the spider. He went and disposed of it before returning once again to the Italian's side, reaching out awkwardly to comfort him.

"It's ok, Feli, the spider's gone now, see?" Feliciano looked at the wall, making sure he was telling the truth, before tackling Ludwig.

"Oh, Ludwig! I just knew you'd save me! Ti amo, ti amo!" He tilted his head up and kissed the blond nation, whose face was becoming increasingly redder.

"J-Ja…Ich liebe dich, Feliciano." he muttered.

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><p>"Thanks again for saving me today, Ludwig", the Italian said as he climbed into bed.<p>

"You're welcome. Say, Feli," Ludwig asked as he put his arms around the Italian nation. "I was wondering…"

"Yes, Luddy?"

"Why would the spider eat you before me? I am larger than you, so wouldn't it be more logical for it would eat me first?"

"Ve~ But you're full of German food, which is good, while I'm full of pasta, which is the best food in the world, so of course it would eat me before you!"

"…Good night, Feliciano."


	2. Of Cats and Banisters

**This is now going to be a series of oneshots. **

**This idea was a request from Moonclaimed. I hope it's to your liking!**

**If you have an idea, let me know! **

**I own nothing.**

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><p>"Ve~! That pasta was delicious! I'm so glad I decided to have it for dinner again today." Feliciano said absentmindedly as he wandered through the house. A blur of brown caught his eye.<p>

"Pookie!" he cried as he rushed over to the stairs. He kneeled down and reached his arm through the banister.

"Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pa-Ve? Pookie, where are you going?" Pookie rubbed against the wall, purring, just out of the Italian's reach. "Pookie, come back!" he cried, stretching his arm in further to reach the cat sitting on the steps. His fingers barely brushed the fur.

Feliciano frowned. Now how was he supposed to pet the cat? There were bars in the way! He glanced at them.

"Ve~! I bet my head will fit through them!" He pressed his head against the wooden spindles until his head pushed through. He smiled in triumph as he finally got to pet his furry friend.

"Oh, Pookie, you're so soft and cute! H-Hey, come back! Don't go up, I can't reach you! Oh, I know, I'll just go through those bars instead!"

Feliciano pulled his head back, only to find it wouldn't budge. He tried again. Nothing. He yanked his arm back and wrapped both hands around the balusters he was trapped between. He tugged back. Again. His eyes were wide with panic and tears began to flow down his face.

"LUDWIG!" He shouted. Frantic steps were heard above, and a German appeared, gun in hand.

"Feli, what's wro-Oh, you've got to be kidding me." _Another day, another headache…_

"I was petting Pookie but then he moved too far so I put my head in so I could pet him and now it won't come out and PLEASE DON'T SHOOT ME!" he cried, arms flailing.

"Feli," Ludwig said, pinching the bridge of his nose, tucking the gun safely into the back of his pants, "what have I told you about putting your head through the rails? Mein Gott, this is the third time this month!"

"Not to, ve…" he looked down (as best he could) disappointedly.

"I'll go get the olive oil…" the blond man sighed, disappearing into the kitchen.

"…heading over right now. See ya soon, birdie." A voice drifted down to Feliciano as a silver haired man appeared, throwing on a jacket. Crimson eyes met amber ones. "Get your head stuck again?" he smirked.

"Ve…" Feliciano sighed admittedly. Gilbert descended the stairs, stopping in front of the auburn headed boy.

"You look like you're in prison! Ksesesese!" He laughed, ruffling the trapped nation's hair.

"Bruder? What are you still doing home? I thought you were going out with Matthew today?" Ludwig reappeared with a bottle. Gilbert stood up, opening the door.

"Ja, the awesome me was just heading out. Bye West, Feli." He said, closing the door behind him. Ludwig turned, directing his attention back to his lover.

"Let's get you out of there." he said. The blue eyed man poured some oil on to his hands and rubbed them on Feliciano's face and ears, and then on the balusters. He wiped his hands on a rag and put his arms around the smaller man's torso.

"Ready?" Feliciano nodded. Ludwig took a deep breath and pulled, but he couldn't free the other nation of his predicament. Ludwig huffed as heaved again, this time taking a step back whilst doing so. He was met with a yelp of pain and much resistance. He released his favorite idiot and grabbed the bottle.

"I'm going to try again, ok?" he said as he rubbed more oil onto Feliciano.

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><p>"I can't wait to see the look on Feli's face when he opens the door!" Antonio chirped as he parked the car. "He'll be so happy to see you, Lovi~!"<p>

"Stop calling me that, bastard!" Lovino slammed the car door. Antonio grabbed his hand and tugged him to the door. Lovino could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Aw, my Lovi~ looks like a tomato!" Antonio quickly pulled him into a hug.

"L-let me go!" Lovino pushed away halfheartedly. Eventually, Antonio released him, huge grin on his face. "Did you remember the wine?" the red-faced man asked.

"Hm? Oh, no, I left it in the car…" Antonio sighed. Lovino rolled his eyes.

"Idiot…I'll go get it." Lovino turned and made his way back to the car.

Antonio went up to the door, and raised his hand to knock, when he heard shouting inside.

"OW! Ludwig, that hurts!"

"Sorry, Feliciano, it's really stuck in there."

"Get more oil!"

Antonio stared at the door, as slight blush gracing his skin.

"Hey, tomato bastard, you going to knock or what?" Antonio turned around at the sound of hi lover's voice.

"…No, I don't think I am…In fact, let's go home. We can visit your brother tomorrow." He grabbed Lovino's wrist and dragged him back to the car, trying to keep his feisty Italian from the house.

"W-What? But we're already here! Why the fuck would we go home now? Besides, I want to see him _today_, not tomorrow." Lovino tried to pull out of the older man's grip.

"Well, you see, Lovi…" Antonio started, pulling the half-nation close, eyes half-lidded, "there's something I want to do with you. We're going to need lots of oil."

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><p>Ludwig collapsed from exhaustion as Feliciano hugged him, thanking him profusely. Never had the Italian wedged himself in that good. <em>I think that counts for today's training.<em>

"Hey…Feli," he said in between breaths, "next time, please remember to walk around and sit on the stairs." Feliciano lifted his head, staring at the German like he was crazy.

"Ve? But that's dangerous! Someone could trip over me and get hurt!"

Ludwig closed his eyes. "Just go shower, Feliciano."

"Ve~! Ok, Luddy!" He gave his hero a quick peck on the lips before running (and nearly falling (honestly, the Italian needed help)) up the stairs.

"Sometimes," Ludwig muttered to himself, " I think Spain's lucky for getting the brighter of the two. Romano may be a handful, but surely he can't be this bad…"


	3. Shots of Love

**An anon (Pookie) requested something with sports. Since they weren't specific, I decided to forgo the usual soccer/football games and prep for the upcoming London Olympics. Upon researching some of the summer games, I discovered that Italy has won more medals for shooting than Germany. So I decided that Italy's actually a pretty good shot when someone's not charging him. **

**I also discovered that there is so much more to shooting than I had planned for. In fact, I think I spent more time researching than I did writing. And I still can't find information for scoring on the 25m rapid fire pistol!**

**And that's enough rambling. If you want to see something, let me know!**

**Thanks again to the lovely MoonClaimed for fixing this story up. **

**I own nothing.**

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><p>Ludwig stared, amazed, at the man firing in front of him. Focused amber eyes glared through an iron sight, before swiftly pulling the trigger. A loud bang split the air, overpowering the sound of shattering clay. Red smoke poured out of the debris, polluting the nearby air.<p>

The man calmly lowered his shotgun and wiped his brow before moving to his next position without even a glance at the audience. Instead, he reached into the pouch of his blue vest for ammo and reloaded his gun. Once in position, he stood for a moment, gun angled up at 45 degrees, and took a deep breath. After a curt nod to the official, a loud "Pull!" rang through the air.

Two targets flew through the air from opposite directions. The man's eyes narrowed as he rapidly raised his gun slightly, aimed and fired, then aimed slightly right and fired again. Red and green smoke erupted, signaling that both targets had been hit. Behind him, the crowd roared, and the man finally allowed himself a goofy smile as he turned around to face them. The announcer's voice was barely heard as it proclaimed, "And Feliciano Vargas of Italy finishes with 149 out of 150 points, leaving him with the silver medal while the gold goes to Alfred Jones of America."

Feliciano ran over to Ludwig upon spotting him, curl bouncing the whole way.

"Ve~! Ludwig, did you see? I got second!" he cried, throwing his arms around the still-in-shock man.

"Uh, ja, I saw," he mumbled, still trying to figure out what had just happened. Never had he seen the Italian so focused, and with a gun of all things! "Feli…how did you do that? You were terrible with a firearm whenever we trained…"

"Si," the Italian nodded eagerly, " that's because we always worked with close range weapons! I'm much better at sharpshooting. Fratello's the one good with panic shots." He stole a glance over to his brother, who was bright red and proudly displaying his bronze, along with Antonio's gold which had just been placed there by the Spaniard himself.

Feliciano felt a finger underneath his chin and he was once again face to face with blue eyes.

"I'm so proud of you, Feliciano," the German whispered, pulling him into a deep kiss. "Ich liebe dich," he whispered after breaking apart for air.

"Yo, Italy!" an American voice shouted across the field. "You comin' to get your medal or what?"

"Ve? Oh, si!" he shouted back. He quickly pecked Ludwig's lips before running off to join the American on the medal podium, along with Russia, who had scored the bronze.

While America's national anthem was playing, Feliciano heard Russia talking.

"Next time it will be me up there, da?" he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his violet eyes.

America just laughed. "Yeah, like _that's_ ever gonna happen again."

Russia ignored the blond and leaned forward to address the Italian. "And I won't forget about you either, little Italy," he said, smile widening.

Feliciano paled. But before he could beg and claim he had relatives in Russia, the music stopped. The amber eyed man frantically ran (fell) off the podium and back to his lover, who was getting ready for his own shot at a shooting medal. The Italian opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by the announcement calling Ludwig up to shoot. Fear forgotten in the face of excitement, he closed his mouth and gave the German a light peck on the cheek. "Good luck," he said, smiling.

Ludwig nodded and took a deep breath before walking over to the range. He looked up at the five targets in front of him as he took the safety off his pistol. He aimed it down 45 degrees, as the rules dictated, and told the referee he was ready. He blocked out everything around him and stared intently at the bull's eye, waiting for the red light to turn green.

"Attention! Three…Two…One…Start!"

Ludwig whipped up his right hand and aimed for the center of the first target. He fired and moved his arm to the left to fire at the next target, the middle, the one after that, and the last one. He held his .22 there until he heard the minute countdown of his reload period. Practice round complete. Now for the real deal.

Ludiwg ran a hand through his blond hair and lowered his gun back to 45. The official yelled start, and he repeated his previous actions, on this time firing twice into each target. Round 1 complete.

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><p>Ludwig held his breath as he watched Switzerland approach the 25 meter line. The green eyed man cast a look over his shoulder at Ludwig. This was it. The tie breaker. One of them as going home with a gold medal. The neutral nation turned forward and closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment. He got his gun in position, opened his eyes, and nodded to the referee. The timer above was set to four seconds.<p>

"Attention: Three…Two…One…Start!"

Green eyes flashed and a gun fired ten times, moving down the line of targets every two shots. He stood still, panting. The two blond nations stood still as statues, waiting to see his score flash above him.

"Scheiße…"

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><p>Ludwig climbed off the medal podium and was immediately greeted by Feliciano.<p>

"Ve~! Ludwig, you were amazing!" he said boisterously.

"Danke, Feli." A blush lined the German's face as he gently pulled the smaller man into him. He smiled softly at the soft clink his gold medal made against his lover's silver.

"Smile for the camera, West," a familiar voice said from behind. Before he could ask what he was talking about, he felt a rough shove and stumbled forward onto the Italian. Not expecting the larger man's weight to come crashing into him, said Italian went down with the larger man on top of him, lips accidently smashing against each other.

A camera flashed.

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><p>The next morning, Ludwig woke up to his cell phone ringing. He rolled over carefully as to not wake the sleeping man next to him and picked it up without even bothering to check it.<p>

"Hallo?"

"Morning West!" Ludwig could practically hear his brother's grin.

"What do you want?" he grumbled. A phone call this early was never a good sign. He glanced over to his right when he felt the bed shift. Feli, blinking the sleep from his eyes, gave him a smile before getting up, most likely to make breakfast.

"Is that any way to speak your awesome bruder? Especially since I'm calling to congratulate you."

"Congratulate me? I think you did that well enough last night," the blond man grumbled.

"Ksesesese! You might want to check today's paper," the older man laughed.

Ludwig froze then bolted to the kitchen. "Feli, have you seen the paper?"

"Ve? Oh, good morning Ludwig! Yeah, it's right here. Look, we made the front page!" Feliciano exclaimed, pointing.

Ludwig stared for a solid ten seconds before holding the phone back up to his ear.

"I am going to kill you," he said venomously.

On the table sat the paper. Front and center was him on top of Feliciano, connected at the lips. Above was the headline, in bold and all caps.

**SHOTS OF LOVE**


End file.
